A Canary's Last Song
by Flaming Fate Zero
Summary: ATs have become commonplace and a new land has been established as a Mecca for riders. But tensions are high as the relationship between the public and stormriders becomes strained. Zamir, a tuner, has tried to remain detached from the battles and danger that follow stormriders. But what happens when a lowly mechanic suddenly sets his sights on becoming something more?
1. Chapter 1

**Pseudo-Prologue**

"What are you doing?!" A young fourteen year old asked, strapped down to an armchair and ineffectively struggling against the leather bindings that restrained his hands and feet. Surrounding him were several other individuals in chairs, yet each of them had slumped heads and motionless bodies. Nobody was making a sound, and deafening silence filled the room that appeared to be an empty void save for the single white flickering light bulb that hung from the ceiling and illuminated a dark figure standing before him.

On the boy's left was an asian boy his age with blonde hair that was messily spiked, his body about an inch taller than the horrified teen next to him if they were standing up. As the figure lifted his face, the boy shouted in outrage from the chair.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!"

"Shut it you," the figure said before his arm shot out and painfully smacked the boy across the face. Leading to him giving a pained hiss as the unknown individual chuckled to himself. He was wearing a simple black long sleeved shirt and jeans, nothing out of the ordinary, but the single black flat-billed cap he wore on his head was casting a shadow that hid his face from view. His hands were brown, the exact same skin tone as the boy with misty eyes from the painful sting of his strike.

"Unbelievable," he muttered as he inspected the messy haired boy's youthful face. It was nearly flawless, with prominent cheekbones and thin lips that made him briefly think about the sort of asian models that he'd see on magazine covered.

Taking one more look around the room, he noticed how much the single captive boy stood out among the other three Japanese young men that was surrounding him. As he went over to the next one, his back was turned to the teen as they still tried to struggle against their restraints.

This one's hair was jet black, and considerably older than the previous one he had inspected. He appeared to be in his early twenties, not to mention considerably taller than the others at a height of six feet tall. His hair was long and straight, framing both sides of his face until the figure tenderly reached out and briefly parted his locks.

"And you were so powerful...so much strength and presence wasted on a cliche." The figure's lips were formed into a frown as they shook their head, removing their hand and allowing the young adult's hair to fall back in place until he knelt before his final guest.

Dark hair highlighted with blonde, this individual was much more muscular than the previous man while still being younger. Sixteen years old, and snuffed out just before the true prime of his youth. The figure tilted his head and lifted the motionless teen's chin, fully registering all of the similar features that he shared with his two brothers. Admittedly, he closely resembled the eldest brother the most in the figure's own opinion but that was likely due to already having the opportunity to go through the full stages of puberty. Placing their hand on the middle child's thigh, the figure pulled himself up to the caramel skinned boy and sucked his teeth while shaking his head.

"What?! You got somethin' to say!?"

"As a matter of fact I do…" The figure clenched his teeth as he lurched forward, causing the boy to flinch as his hand reached out and landed on the top of his head. Specifically his hair, that dark hair that he would always see in that stupid nameless fade.

"Unbelievable….un-freaking-believable…"

"I swear the second I get out of these you're dead! What did you do to Amaya? I swear if you killed her too-"

"Just shut up already!" The figure's voice resonated throughout the room as his hands reached up and began rubbing his temples. Even hidden by the shadow, his face was contorted and his nose wrinkled in an expression of obvious disgust and agitation.

" 'I'm not gonna rest until you pay for what you've done!', 'My friends are gonna find you and you're gonna pay for this!', 'You'll wish you were never born when Agito and Akira are done with you!', sheesh I can feel myself nearly imploding from the amount of cringe I'm imagining coming out of your mouth!" His teeth were gnashing as his hands suddenly slammed onto the arms chair, his face getting close enough to the boy's that they were able to make out more features than before.

"Solstice...a much better name than Grimm, unfortunately a complete waste. You made that name given to you into a complete joke!"

"What are you even talking about? I chose that name for myself."

"No Rashard," the boy's eyes suddenly widened at the sound of his name, "you didn't."

As the figure turned his hat around, Rashard saw a face before him that caused his heart to briefly feel like a piece of lead in his chest and his lungs to constrict much tighter than the bindings surrounding his body. His lips were trembling, and within his eyes were a combination of both unbridled fear and genuine confusion.

"You're...m-me?"

"Not exactly…" the figure muttered, dark brown eyes glaring down at the boy. The figure was the spitting image of Rashard but older, with neatly trimmed facial hair along his jaw and across his upper lip. His face was also much leaner, with visible features in his cheeks and jawline that were hidden in Rashard's. He toward over the young man and tightened his grip on the arms of the chair before he relaxed and backed away for two steps.

"I don't get it...how could you be me? Are you my dad or something? I was orphaned-"

"Good lord what was going on back then," the man muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Who, who are you?"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you are gone. You are nothing more than the product of an immature complete power fantasy that had little to no forward thinking or development whatsoever! You had no substance, no growth, hell, you were created after everything interesting had already happened to you. And the solution? Completely ludicrous! Electric wristbands that reset years of training and effort into that of an amateur? And you're friends, oh sweet merciful buddha your _girlfriend_! There isn't enough time in the world to unpack that tragedy and living stereotype. And your brothers...your oldest brother especially...such a pity that they were wasted potential." The figure was now sitting in a chair, causing Rashard to blink a few times to clear his vision because there wasn't one there before. He wad his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced together as his gaze briefly softened. His right hand reached behind his back and suddenly drew a gun, immediately causing Rashard to violently struggle against his bonds.

It was of no use, as the figure was careful to ensure the chair was properly bolted to the ground. His face completely expressionless as Rashard had begun to panic, already beginning to scream and plead with tears flowing from his eyes.

"No! No! Please don't! I didn't do anything!"

"And that right there's the problem," the gun was cocked with a sigh as the figure closed his eyes, completely unresponsive to the fourteen year old's screaming and wailing.

"You didn't do nearly enough...and what you did do was an absolute mess. It's time for a change and for you to join the others."

It wasn't long before Rashard had stopped struggling, only silently sobbing as his head hung until his chin was touching his chest. His posture was almost indistinguishable from the three surrounding him.

"I don't wanna die...I don't wanna die…" his whimpers were barely above a whisper, and the figure softly shook his head as he pressed the barrel of the gun to the top of Rashard's head.

"This isn't death...this is growth. As you are now, you sit here as nothing than the evidence of a failure that is difficult to look back on. But you were also the beginning, the start of something great. A progress and introduction that lead to years of discovery and advancement. You may not have gotten the chance to see it, but you will. You will.." His lips pulling on the right side into a small smile, the figure's index finger rested against the trigger of the gun.

Upon further inspection, the gun the figure held within their hand was not an ordinary handgun. There was some sort of seal along the side of it, a sigil of an open book with blades crossed that had several words written along the barrel:

_5 years of reality_

"Once you were a Phoenix..." The gun fired with a single squeeze, a spark of golden light briefly flashing from the muzzle. Oddly, Rashard's head did not even flinch from the impact. Instead, every muscle simultaneously relaxed as his breathing came to a stop.

The figure pulled the gun away, revealing the lack of any sort of wound as he stepped back to observe his work, how all four men were now completely still and held up only by the restraints locking them to their chairs.

"Now, you'll be reborn as a Canary."

* * *

Zamir woke from his bed violently sitting up in a cold sweat, his chest heaving as the darkness surrounded him in his room illuminated solely by the light of the moon. He buried his face in his hands as he attempted to get hm breathing under control, closing his eyes as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. Feeling his heart rate gradually fall back into rhythm, he glanced around his room and tried rubbing the sleep out of one of his eyes and squinting through the dark. He didn't need the lights on in order to remember that tools were everywhere in his fifteen by twenty foot room, his bed taking up the vast majority of the back wall as he looked at the deactivated 25 inch television set that sat on his oak dresser. At the foot of his bed was a two level set of racks that acted as his closet, while to his immediate right was a desk that also acted as his nightstand. It held his clock, his lamp, his laptop, but it also doubled as his workstation. As the vast majority of it was taken up by a pair of ATs that he had just dismantled about…

He glanced at the clock and ground as it was four o'clock in the morning.

"Can't even sleep for more than three freaking hours…." he yawned as he laid back down onto his bed, once again telling himself that he'd clean up all the tools and parts from the ground in the coming afternoon. He really didn't have time to lose any sleep, his rider was expecting his ATs to be primed and ready when he came by. It was going to be another long day, one that he couldn't handle surviving off of just three hours of rest.

"Damnit…" he muttered as he rummaged around in his pillowcase, reaching between the two worn pillows held within to pull out a remote control. With a single click, the television blared to life and caused him to hiss in agony as the bright blue rays felt like fire in his cornea. He hid behind his forearm as he quickly switched the settings to turn down the TV's brightness, thankfully already having the volume low as the most sleep inducing program he could think of was on: the news.

"Local authorities are still unaware of the culprits of the string of robberies that have been occurring over the past three days. Local residents are claiming that the offenders were seen escaping authorities on Air Trek skates, illegally modified if I might add." A feminine voice said, one that Zamir already knew belonged to news anchor Monica Moore. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of her voice for years, and even with his eyes closed he could get a clear picture of her face. Lightly tanned with subtle powder and eyeliner, a soft pink coat of lipgloss, and a white button up shirt with a gold locket hanging from her neck that likely held baby pictures or something.

"Civilians should remain vigilant in Vermillion District, and if there is any word to the identity of these culprits you can give tips at 1-977-6…"

The television had already begun to fade into the background, turning into empty noise as Zamire felt himself once again fall into the warm embrace of unconsciousness. His snugly fit black nightcap warming his head as the cool breeze from the ceiling fan circulated throughout the room. As he slowly fell back into his slumber the final image within his mind was the massive decal on his ceiling above his bed of a witch riding a double sided wrench in the middle of a black circle. The background of the witch's upper half was red with black mountains and two black stars, while below the witch's legs the background was purple and had stylized black letters along the bottom that took Zamir a few tries to decipher when he had first joined the team: _Tool Toul To. _

"When you've found

A different point in your life where the roads meet,

A different strike in the drum of your heartbeat..."

Zamir sleepily sang to himself, his voice a soft tenner as he settled back under his blankets. His back turning to the door as he curled into the wall with the soft glowing from the television at his back.

"Oh woah…

Just pray that hope will be there,

'Cause freedom is forever…."

His voice soon faded into the soft and steady breathing of sleep, finding himself once again in a state of simultaneous weightlessness and serenity as the darkness pulled him into its embrace before once again giving way to dreams. As he found himself once again soaring above the clouds with the wind rushing past his face and blowing through his hair, he saw a golden bird flying in front of him.

It was small, just barely big enough to stand in the palm of his hand. He attempted to chase after it, but no matter how much he willed himself to go faster the golden bird would always maneuver just beyond his reach. He chased and chased, but could never catch it. As he pursued the bird in a nosedive towards the ground, he felt his fingers just briefly touching the tips of its tail feathers as they neared the ground below.

They were on a collision course towards a scrapyard, and he knew that barreling into that scrap metal at the speed he was going meant he wasn't going to be able to dig himself out. Despite the risk of a mountain of metal and garbage falling on top of him, he just had to catch that bird. Something within him _needed _to catch it, and he refused to let himself stray from his goal when it was just barely within reach. Just moments before they could reach impact, Zamir swung his arm forward and grabbed the bird, angling himself to sharply fly straight just as a deafening crash resonated behind him.

With a quick glance back, he was the last flaming tail-feather of some massive bird being buried by the mountain of garbage and metal. It's fruitless struggles to get out only served to bury it deeper as its cries were muffled by the pile of rubbish. Zamir forced himself to stop and stared in shock at the mountain that now covered the once mighty bird, looking down at the golden creature that he gently held in his palm.

The bird's eyes, unlike the rest of its body, were pitch black. The bird's head slightly cocked to the side as Zamir arched an eyebrow, now wondering what the heck he was supposed to do with the bird now that he'd caught it.

"Well, I don't suppose you have the faintest idea of what's supposed to happen next?" Zamir chuckled as he held the bird at eye level, still careful to avoid crushing it in his grasp. When the bird's chest briefly swelled as it prepared to either sing or say something, a roaring alarm suddenly thundered in Zamir's ears.

"GAAAAGHHHH!" Zamir's arms and legs immediately flailed, managing both to punch the wall and push himself off the bed still wrapped in his pillows and with a hard thud as he fell on top of his backpack and shoes. He hissed as he rolled onto his back, a hand over his stomach where his textbook had collided with his lower intestine.

The bright yellow nova of lights caused him to place his arm over his eyes, and he looked over at the door to see the culprit of the rude awakening. A young man stood in the doorway with a megaphone in his left hand while the right was holding his stomach as he laughed against the door frame.

"Not funny Joel," Zamir grumbled, his black night cap being knocked askew and showing his thick puffy black hair that was uneven from sleep.

"Nah nah, it was fucking hilarious!" Joel said still giggling. The hispanic teen was already dressed for work, wearing a pair of sweatpants, a tank top, a denim jacket, and a pair of gunmetal grey ATs. His one strap book-bag was sling over his shoulder and from the floor Zamir could see the edge of the Tool Toul To sticker from between Joel's fingers.

Those bright green eyes scanned Zamir's rom before they closed and Joel gestured around with the megaphone, "You really need to clean this place up bro."

"It's organized chaos." Zamir grumbled as he sat up, lightly glaring at the young man before he simply sighed and let his back rest against the side of his bed. "You could've just called me you know."

"Sure, but then I'd miss my daily morning laugh quota."

"That's what YouTube is for."

"You can't enjoy a sight like this behind a screen bro, it's gotta be witnessed firsthand."

"Whatever…" Zamir reached up and pulled himself to his feet, grabbing his pillow and weakly hurling it at Joel who ducked out of the way. Popping back up and causing his curly light brown hair to bounce back in place as he shot his friend a smirk.

"Better luck tomorrow Zamir. See you out front," Joel gave his friend a two fingered salute before his AT's whirred to life, grabbing the waist of his jeans as he appeared to moonwalk out of the doorway.

After hearing the common room's door shut Zamir groaned and began stepping around the tools littering the ground and picked up the pillow.

"Why the hell do you keep letting him in here?!" he called out the doorway, shutting it before he headed over to the clothes rack in order to get dressed.

"Because, hearin' you scream like a girl in the morning is fair dinkum hilarious! Now get yer ass up an' let's go already ya c*nt!" Of course Mindy let him in for a quick laugh, she just couldn't resist having a hand in any sort of activity that would lead to either Zamir being embarrassed or agitated. Bonus points if she managed to do both.

"Yeah yeah just let me get dressed first," Zamir called out, pulling off his pajama bottoms and starting to look through the clothes on the rack for something worth putting on.

"We're also stopping at Maccas!"

"Hey Zee, think you can spot me again?"

"You better not get anything that ain't on the dollar menu if I'm buying!" Zamir pulled on a pair of maroon jeans and slipped a black button down on his arms before he went over to the full length mirror next to the door.

He pulled a pick off of his nightstand and looked in the mirror as he started to pick out his hair, attempting to even out his afro before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his hair tie. Holding it in his teeth, he gathered his hair in a single hand before grabbing the elastic band and tying it off in a puff at the back of his head. He took in his appearance as he buttoned up his shirt, the light stubble on the end of his chin that was the fruit of 18 years worth of growing, his dark brown eyes, the athletic build hidden beneath his tank top he gained from running around with his knuckle-headed friends, and the tip of a scar just peeking out past the collar of his undershirt before he connected all but the top two buttons. Sure it was more wrinkled than what he expected, but he wasn't dressing to impress anyone today.

He briefly let his hand run down his face, feeling one or two slight abrasions of acne that he'd have to take care of later when given the chance. He really needed to careful about touching his face after working on air treks from now on. When he was satisfied, he picked up his backpack and removed the books in order to exchange them for tools. Once he was done, he placed the ATs on his desk inside and clipped a smaller square case to the front of his backpack just in case he would need to work away from the desk.

At the foot of his bed sat his own pair of ATs, though unlike his friends' these appeared to be nothing more than high-top black leather shoes with white soles and black laces. One look at the bottom though would reveal the ball bearing mechanism made into a pattern around the heel and ball of the foot, a much more subtle design than the skates his friends employed. The ball bearings were currently retracted into the soles for easy transition from riding to walking, causing the shoes to add about an inch and a half to his relatively average 5'7. Bending over, he slipped the shoes onto his feet before pulling the tongues of the shoes with a twisting motion.

The ball bearings lowered and the pressure system hummed to life along the bottom of his feet, allowing Zamir to roll sideways back in front of the mirror without changing his position. His outfit came together quite nicely, and it was supposed to be a cool day today. He pulled down one of the hats hanging from the edge of his clothes racks and placed it on his head, opening up the back to that he could fasten it beneath his puff of hair. The hat was dark blue with a stylized V emblem with horns on either side for the Vermillion Vikings AT team.

"Another day breaks to a new sense of reason," he glided over to the door and placed his hand on the knob, turning back and getting one last look at his room. For some reason, it felt almost like he was seeing everything for the first time. Like he was looking at his old belongings and place of rest with a brand new perception. Though just as suddenly as the moment struck him, it left as he simply shrugged.

"And another mind wakes to the light of a vision." One quick turn later, and Zamir was gone for the day with the soft click of the lock closing the room off from the outside world. The Television still on and giving the morning news to an absent audience.

**Author's Note**

**To those of you that don't know, I wrote a story on this site years ago called The Legacy of The Mighty Kings. I looked back at the reviews and saw that I had two positive reviews from readers even after years of not updating. One of them was from a friend I had met irl before I moved away. Looking back at my work, I couldn't do anything but see how naïve and unrefined my writing style was when I was younger. Not to mention how people genuinely thought that it was a good story and how much of a shame it was that I couldn't see it through to the end due to life getting in the way. The Air Gear fandom has been quite…empty for some time. So I'm not even sure how wide the audience I'm writing to is around this time. Regardless, I want nothing more than to do much better than my first try. And this little pre-prologue is me turning away from the past and looking towards someone new. I have evolved both as a writer and as a person since Legacy of the Mighty Kings, so I will be leaving that story up as a sort of monument to where I used to be in my head and as a writer. I hope you enjoy Zamir's journey, and I would appreciate hearing your feedback and review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**No Pain, No Gain**

"Move it ya slowpokes! My granny can ride faster than you two!"

_Sheesh, even on an empty stomach Mindy wants to make a task as simple as getting food into a race. _

Zamir was perfectly comfortable cruising along the Turquoise district streets, thankfully filled with relatively light 9am traffic. The air was filled with the soft hum of cars passing on their morning commute and the occasional snippets of conversation from early risers on their way to work or school. They had even seen a few students with bulky backpacks and hastily put together uniforms cruising past them on the street, obviously running late for class.

Ever since Air Treks had become a regular part of society, even the road design was slightly altered in order to accommodate riders. A small strip of the road about five feet across was reserved for riders only, outlined in jagged lines of bright red to dissuade any cars from crossing the boundary. It was a transition as simple as putting in a bike lane. though with a higher speed expectation and even greater safety laws. When a human body is capable of accelerating at highway level speeds in a densely populated area surrounded by vehicle traffic and pedestrians, the city could not afford to take any chances.

"I'd prefer not to get arrested on a Monday morning," Zamir commented with a roll of his eyes as he watched Mindy suddenly spin around and ride backwards, "unless you intend to pay for my ticket."

"What's the matter Zimmy? Ya scared to lose again?" she asked with a wide smirk spreading from ear to ear, "besides, you won't have to pay for a ticket if ya don't get caught."

His roommate was incredibly tall, sneering down at him from a height of 6'8. Her dark brown hair was fastened into two braids that loosely flapped in the wind draped over her shoulders, dark brown eyes glinting with excitement and anticipation at the possibility he would take the bait. Her open red button down shirt was lightly buffeted by the wind along with the dark green tank top she wore underneath. Her legs were covered by baggy tan cargo pants that were frayed at the bottom and ripped around the knees, a single light grey belt holding them against her hips.

"I'm not five years old. I know when I'm beat and have no problem admitting defeat." If she had no competition, this brief reckless impulse was bound to die down. She never had any fun unless somebody else was roped into one of her schemes, feeding her hunger for competition. It was going to just be another boring Monday, one where he wouldn't be fearing for his life riding through traffic or catching a kick to the stomach from Mindy getting too into the race and treating it like a real battle. It was just going to be a normal ride to work and a stop for breakfast.

"If you think I'm going to let you keep your winning streak after that crap you pulled last time, you've got another thing coming!"

"Damnit." Zamir facepalmed as he cursed under his breath, of course Joel wasn't going to let a previous loss go when he was so close to beating her.

"It's not like it was the first time you lost, figured you would've been used to it by now." She replied, casually crossing her hands beneath her chest as she remained blissfully unobservant of the road behind her. In these sorts of situations Zamir already assumed the responsibility of keeping watch, not just for other riders but also for any officers on patrol that could pull them over for improper use of the Trek lane.

"I almost smoked your ass and you know it! If you didn't grab my belt when I finally passed you." Joel's eyes narrowed at Mindy as his hands had already finished tightening the strap of his backpack, even fastening it to his belt loop. It only took losing belongings one time for a rider to remember to buckle everything down that can move.

"Then you wouldn't have distracted that traffic cop with your Turquoise Tigers boxers,." Zamir commented, smirking as he earned a hearty laugh from Mindy and an embarrassed frown from Joel as he blushed from ear to ear. "Thanks to you we managed to get away while you only got a slap on the wrist."

"You're both just lucky he was a fan; I lost half my check paying him to not fine my ass." As Joel attempted to pick up what remained of his dignity,

"Speaking of fines, could you please just turn around and ride next to us." Zamir's eyes nervously darted to his left where he noticed a few lingering gazes from the passenger seats of a few cars.

Mindy followed his gaze before shrugging and heading his advice, lifting a leg and smoothly pivoting on her toes while decelerating to fall in line on the opposite side of Zamir.

"Since I know it'll be a waste of oxygen talking you out of this, I'm at least going to make sure you do this safely. If either of you go overboard, somebody starts reporting us, or I see a patrol car I'm calling this off." Zamir's gaze briefly locked with Mindy's, "And that means no Tricks."

Contrary to popular belief, i.e those who were not stormriders, a trick is not something as meager as a backflip or a 720 degree turn in midair as you leapt from one roof to another. No, these feats of athleticism were classified as Maneuvers in the modern AT community. Tricks were on an entirely different level, consisting of specialized techniques that were extensions of a rider's personal road. They could only be used by those that truly had the fundamental workings of their quirk understood down to a science, and understood their own bodies enough to perceive ways they could bend the rules of their road to their own advantage.

Anybody with enough training and talent could pick up a pair of ATs and perform complex Maneuvers, there were entire sports now dedicated to athletes that specialized in riding. But to perform a Trick required a degree of dedication, focus, risk, and even obsession that most people just did not have at their disposal. The only individuals willing to dedicate themselves to this task were stormriders, and many had already suffered crippling injuries or even died attempting to either discover a new Trick or from ones that went horribly wrong. To have even a single Trick was a mark of great strength in their world, and placed you at a level above any average stormrider that wished to challenge you. Even though Mindy would never harm them, Zamir always was acutely aware that she was the only true stormrider out of _Toul Tool To_ aside from their superiors. As the sole enforcer of the team who was often assigned to participate in battles as a representative, she was leagues ahead of him when it came to battle experience. He hadn't even seen her in an actual battle before, as measures were taken at the venues she fought within neutralize any attempts to get any application of her road on video. Come to think of it, Zamir never learned what her road was in the first place.

_Not like she's ever volunteered the info. Would it be a bad idea to ask?_

"Come on Zee, I want to see her in act-"

"Don't argue with me on this." Zamir's tone was grating and firm, leaving no room of negotiation as his eyes glared daggers into Joel's. Despite his tone, it wasn't anger that was motivating Zamir's sudden outburst. It only took a moment for Joel to give a slow nod of understanding and for Zamir to sigh in relief.

"No problem bro, I'll be careful." Joel gave an assuring smile as he reached out and gently grasped his friend's shoulder as they slowed down to a halt at the red light before them.

_No matter how good you two are, something can always go wrong._

"Me too, cross me heart." Mindy agreed, a soft smile on lips as she utilized her thumb in order to make the gesture.

"Thanks," Zamir gave a soft nod before briefly reversing so that his friends could move to stand beside one another.

He knew that the smartest choice would've been to talk them out of racing altogether, to keep reminding them of all the risks involved and how much trouble they could get in. A part of him still wanted to stop them, but his curiosity outweighed his fear. He was always hearing stories about stormrider battles and watching a few shaky posts on the web, but never once had gone out to experience one firsthand. He was always either working, sleeping, or was too terrified going by himself. They were illegal, and being caught in attendance meant having your affiliation on file and a mark on a public record. Stormriders were always associated with gang activity. violence, and recently even crime. To be identified as one meant being ostracized from anyone outside of that lifestyle and once everyone refused to hire you, the inevitable relocation to the Vantablack district. But still, there were thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people still willing to call themselves stormriders despite these risks. People were willing to live, fight, and risk it all on a quest for prestige in an underworld everyone seemed to just want to go away.

Maybe he was so drawn to it because he wished to understand why they all were fighting so hard, and perhaps get a glimpse at the final goal at the end of the line. The Vermillion District's King had rarely shown their face, and anyone who expressed any interest in challenging them was crushed before they could make any significant headway. Their rules and decrees were hardly noticeable and their presence was practically nonexistent aside from rumors that seemed to eventually find their way to every stormrider's ear in one way or another. There was a reason Vermillion District was known as the kingdom of the Phantom King, an unseen force that seemed to be more like an ambitious and powerful rider.

_Maybe you'll be the one to show me..._

"We go on green." Joel lowered his body until his fingertips were on the pavement, one leg placed beneath his chest while the other extended beside him.

Even though it looked like a basic runner's stance, Zamir knew that it was the orthodox starting position taught to riders who participated in sports that required quick and sudden acceleration from the starting gate. Due to the pressure sensitive controls, it took a considerable level of balance in order to avoid accidentally setting the ATs off and propelling oneself directly into the ground due to the loss of balance. The front foot was meant to get the body in motion while the rear foot was supposed to apply thrust and increased acceleration, with timing being the most important factor in the success of the starting technique. Zamir usually saw that sort of stance at sporting events or the olympics, rarely in friendly races on the street.

That stance and the look in Joel's eye was all Zamir needed to understand that Joel intended to put his all into this race, and was willing to exhaust every technique in the book in order to do it.

"Fair dinkum." Mindy grinned as she lowered her body and placed her arms at her sides, turning her rearoot that it pointed sideways slightly and keeping her front foot forward.

Her knees were bent so that she was in a half-squatting position, though her body appeared not to waver in the slightest as she still maintained an upright posture. Her left arm gently floated in front of her chest while her right hand rested behind her at the level of her waist. Just the very thought of standing that way in his ball roller ATs made Zamir feel queasy from the lack of stability and footing, but Mindy looked as calm and composed as if she were standing upright.

They were both leagues ahead of him when it came to things like this, as it took Zamir all that he had just to keep up with them. Was this where he would always be? Staring at their backs and chasing after them instead of riding alongside them? His eyes briefly flicked up to the traffic light to see the adjacent lights beginning to shift, signaling the approaching change for the one facing them. He lightly ran his hands up to the back of his hat to unfasten it, removing his hat and clipping it to one of his belt loops.

Unlike his friends, Zamir adopted a more neutral stance. He kept his feet shoulder width apart and made sure his weight was evenly distributed straight over the ball mechanisms, his hands held behind his back to counter his weight as he slightly leaned his chest forward. While Mindy and Joel only had two pressure mechanisms on each foot to keep track of, Zamir had to remain acutely aware of about ten. His ATs required him to have such a consistent level of self awareness that shifting his weight the wrong way could send rotations in conflicting directions and force his ride to stall on good days or result in a wipeout on bad ones. Despite the difficulty, Zamir still forced himself to learn how to ride the more complex AT mechanism because it was the only model available when he joined _Toul Tool To. _

_I may not be fast enough to overtake one of you, but I can at least keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe._

As Zamir felt the microseconds pass before the light would turn green, the world seemed to suddenly glitch as the physical form of his friends altered before him. Superimposing over Joel's body was the form of a rhino, as blue and rough as the denim jacket that had covered his back. The single massive ivory horn was gunmetal gray, and even though Joel remained motionless Zamir could see the beast pawing at the ground in preparation to charge.

"What the-"

Mindy was suddenly covered in bright armor, light glistening off the adamantine material as a shield covered her leading arm and a lance was firmly grasped in her off-hand preparing to strike. Her brown braids had suddenly become golden blond and he could see hints of war paint on her cheeks as a soft ephemeral glow radiated from her skin.

"actual hell?" As suddenly as the visages appeared, the sudden flash of green seemed to baish them like a fleeting dream once his companions both surged forward.

They had already put about five yards of distance between them in the brief window of Zamir's hesitation, the young man quickly placing his weight towards his toes while pushing off of his rear foot in order to chase after them.

What did he just see? Why did he see it? These questions and more were abuzz in his mind but he had to push them aside for the time being. His first, second, and third priority was keeping an eye on this race and the streets. He was going to have to listen for sirens, calls for help, and the signature melodies of the racers' ATs while also ensuring that he kept up and didn't fall behind. A smirk graced his face as he lightly chuckled, glad to find himself back in the position of lookout and denmother once more. He understood his responsibilities and by now he knew them well, besides…

"I know the song of your ATs anywhere, if you leave me behind I'll just take a shortcut to catch right up." As long as they were riding, as long as those AT wheels were turning, Zamir would never lose track of their position. Because connecting riders to their ATs, forging and maintaining those bonds, was his road, the road of everyone that called themselves tuners. The Ring Road.

Against his expectations, Joel had managed to grasp an early lead on Mindy. His orthodox stance had managed to do the trick and allow him to gain ground quickly, but he was left with all of his weight forward and without much room for posture correction. It seems that sort of starting technique was specialized for straight-lined sprinting, as obstacles and directional correction were not accounted for in sports where the only direction you had to go was forward. Joel's legs even momentarily wobbled from the overcommitment before quickly correcting, preventing the worst from occurring as he shot passed a few surprised pedestrians who held their jackets close as they were buffeted by the wind that followed Joel's speeding form.

Mindy was on Joel's tail, but appeared to not be in any sort of rush to get past him just yet. Her legs rhythmically moved as she shifted her weight from one side of her body to the other, her long and easy strides allowing her to maintain distance with Joel as she remained in line with his back. Her knees were bent and her body was hunched somewhat, causing her form to become smaller as she gained on the boy in front of her with arms swinging through the wind in tight controlled arcs.

When the pair of them came across a car that was parked in the AT lane, one look at the moving traffic to their left informed the pair that trying to go around it was far too risky of an endeavor. Not desiring to be halted by trying to weave past newspaper dispensers and parking meters that lined the sidewalk, they simultaneously determined that the best course of action would be to go over the obstacle.

Once he was about ten feet from the car, Joel bent his legs and pushed hard against the ground. The familiar hydraulic hiss of the wheels filled the immediate area as he took to the air, soaring effortlessly over the car and tucking his legs as he performed a tight front flip as he crested over the top of the car. As his legs extended, he hit the ground with an audible smack against the asphalt and grinned at his achievement. Taking a moment to glance behind him at the status of Mindy, he felt his heart lodge in his throat as she appeared to be even closer now.

"Jesus! Did you clip through the car?" He laughed as he returned his attention to the road before him, seeing the next turn rapidly approaching.

"Nah, I just took the express route." She explained coyly with a sneer once she saw the upcoming turn.

Rather than jump early, Mindy continued to ride along the ground during the period that Joel was in midair. Once she was about a foot from the car, she jumped straight into the air and crossed her arms over her chest as she performed a tight spin. Her ATs then lightly skipped across the top of the car to give her an extra push forward, allowing her to get another small burst of acceleration to place her behind Joel. While Joel's tucked roll was an excellent way to keep a person's momentum going forward, the shape created drag against the wind and was prone to air resistance. By keeping her body straight and spinning instead, she was able to cut through the air with more ease and stop short just enough to let her ATs get some traction on the top of the car without potentially damaging it.

Rather than try snapping back with a retort of his own, Joel simply continued his forward stride. It was about a quarter mile to the next turn, where he would be forced to slow down in order to turn safely. While the idea of slowing down after getting so much of a lead was troubling, if Mindy was going to keep riding his tail like this then she would be forced to slow down as well once he stopped. Worst case scenario, she wastes extra energy trying to go around him and he could overtake her once more in the straightaway. As the turn quickly approached, Joel knelt down and leaned his body in order to make a wide but smoothe turn. Instead of hearing Mindy breaking behind him, he saw a flash of red as she shot past him on his inner line to catch the turn before he could. It only took a brief second for her to get past him and teasingly hold up a middle finger before she rose to her full height and began kicking her legs to create more distance between them.

As Joel desperately attempted to make up for his lost lead, a sudden realization hit him and he couldn't help clenching his teeth at his own ignorance. "I can't believe I just let her draft me into a slingshot pass…"

While drafting was a cycling sport used to conserve energy, in motorsport racing it also allowed a brief window for the person drafting behind to gain a sudden burst of speed thanks to the air pressure of his slip stream yanking her forward and keeping her near his back without her needing to go full throttle. One tiny window was all she needed to take advantage of his decelerated force in order to amp up her acceleration and shoot past him.

"Rookie mistake," he grumbled to himself, his eyes widening when he watched Mindy leave the road and suddenly cut into an alleyway.

Figuring that she knew a shortcut that he didn't, Joel quickly prepared to follow her. A few moments after her form disappeared behind the brick corner of the alley, Joel made a turn and was horrified to see a complete minefield of garbage and trash cans. In the edge of his vision he could see Mindy scaling the wall of the left adjacent building and was already near the top, while Joel unfortunately had no time to get that much air without crashing his shoulder into the wall and falling into the smelly horde of garbage below.

"Oh hell no!" It was sheer reflex that saved him, as he barely managed to clear the first metal trash can as he drifted towards the adjacent wall to his right.

Allowing his body to fall into the similar position of months of practice, he slightly leaned his upper body away from the wall while he aimed his bent knees towards it. Once his wheels made contact with the brick, he carefully pressed his weight into the wall and meticulously held his balance as he performed a wallride to avoid the assortment of broken glass and dripping black bags that he knew would ruin not just his wheels but also his clothes.

Every passing second on that wall felt like he was one miscalculation away from falling, and the horrid smell of trash forced him to instinctively hold his breath. He couldn't recall how long he spent in that state of suspension, but the dip he felt once he reached the end of the wall allowed him to get a welcomed breath of fresh air.

"Hey! Nice one, I thought you were gonna eat shit back there but you surprised me!" Joel was clutching his chest in an effort to calm his heart as he looked around only to find Mindy waving at him from the edge of the low rooftop of the opposing building that he'd just passed.

"Are you nuts?! How did you even get up there so fast!?"

"When you find a way up here I'll tell you." Joel felt himself internally shutter at the idea of being up so high, his dizziness already threatening to set in at the mental image before he forced himself to chase after Mindy's form as she jumped the gap separating her from the building before her.

She may have had the high ground, but Joel had no intention of allowing her to get away so easily. As he left the alley, he corrected his course once again down the route to their destination that he was familiar with. With a quick vault over a bus stop bench, he was back on the road once more and weaving his way through a few straggling cruisers. The repetitive sound of hydraulics made him glance upward and watch in awe as Mindy gracefully leapt from one street light to the other, her ATs perfectly utilizing each cylindrical platform as a foothold in order to gain speed. Anybody else would've fallen and broken their neck by now, but Mindy was jumping from post to post like a child jumping along the cracks of a sidewalk.

"So this is what separates the stormriders from the athletes…" Nobody in their right mind would do something so stupid, so risky, just to win a race.

Her pride as a rider was truly pushing her to pull out all the stops, going as far as deviating from the path to lead Joel into a trap in an effort to trip him up. Unlike the other times they raced, she wasn't nearly as close and chatty. She was actually taking him seriously and doing everything in her power to avoid losing. If he wasn't still reeling from being one bad muscle shift from needing a long shower and a tetanus shot, he'd be flattered. With newfound vigor, he pushed himself onward and startled cruisers quickly began clearing a path for the determined by.

"Beep beep! Sorry! S'cuse me! Running late for a date!" Excuses, explanations, and apologies easily rolled of his tongue as he gave nervous smiles and apologetic waves to everyone he could as he passed by. At least giving them a reason would make them less likely to report him for reckless speeding, especially when most of them appeared to be around his age.

When he saw upcoming traffic and a red light rapidly approaching, he briefly weighed the pros and cons of taking the upcoming gap in the cars. If he really pushed it he was positive he could clear the three lanes of traffic before anyone could hit him, but Zamir's warning from earlier resonated in his mind and he forced himself to brake with clenched fists. As he watched the gap approach that he had been anticipating, he was taken aback as he watched a car that was speeding suddenly plow through the space his body would've been if he'd kept going.

It was an interesting thing seeing how close one's own mortality could've been, how a miscalculation of a single person's choice could make everything go so wrong so fast. He felt his heart banging against his rib cage as his breath caught in his throat, reaching up and clenching his jacket as he attempted to steady his breathing. Whether Zamir had known it or not, he'd saved Joel's life that day.

"Hey Joey, you okay? You look like you saw a ghost." Mindy was crouching on a telephone pole above, a concerned expression on her face as she remained blissfully unaware or uncaring of the eyes and fingers now trained on her position.

"It's fine, just a bit winded."

"That's what happens when ya keep filling the pantry with donuts and PopTarts."

"Don't you dare disrespect the food of the divine!" He couldn't let this get him in a rut, putting on a brave and challenging smile once again in order to mask his brief fear of death.

Returning his smirk, Mindy bent down and grabbed the base of the outstretched telephone pole as she let herself hop off. Though when Joel thought she was going to end up breaking her legs from the fall, she maintained her grip in order to hook the back of her leg around the base of the pole and hooked her other hand around it as well. As she let go of the light post's arm, her momentum allowed her to smoothly spin down the pole's length, her cargo pants providing enough friction to slow her fall and the material tough enough to keep from tearing or ripping as she descended. As Joel and several other onlookers silently watched the Maneuver in awe, he began to call out to her when she was near the center.

"Woah, I had no idea you were a-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll rip out ya fucking tongue!" She quickly interjected before pushing herself off the wall and in an arc over his body, landing on the crosswalk with a brief spin in order to dissipate her speed before she kept going.

"No!" Joel had been completely oblivious to the crosswalk light being green and was just standing there like an idiot when he could've made a left turn and kept pushing.

By the time he prepared to follow after Mindy, the light had changed and he was forced to follow traffic and go forward. He could already see her three blocks away with her form only getting further, way beyond the ground he was capable of covering at the pace she was moving. It wasn't going to be easy, but he was going to have to take a quick shortcut. It was the only path that he knew could bypass the lost ground he had, but it would require employing horrible means that no self respecting rider would usually employ.

…

"So you really are a starter for Queen Highschool's AT team?" A wide grin brightened the seat next to Joel as he chatted with a girl on the monorail, her magenta colored hair styled in two long twin tails as her legs lightly kicked against the leg of the chair the two sat on.

She was wearing a long dark skirt with a cream cardigan, white button down shirt, and a dark blue tie around her neck. She was of a pale complexion and had dark eyes that had been gleaming with fascination from the first moment she saw Joel enter her cart wearing his ATs. She had a babyish heart shaped face with lips lightly covered with pink lip gloss and a slight divot in the bridge of her nose where he assumed glasses would usually be sitting.

"Yeah, I've been on the team for two years now but I've been riding for eight." Joel was slouching against his chair as he returned her smile, his feet resting on the back wheel of his ATs to alleviate some of the soreness while he could.

"You've been riding since you were nine years old?!"

"My brother would teach me in secret, our mom wasn't the biggest fan of her baby boy strapping two supermotors to their feet." He lightly rubbed the back of his head as the two of them shared a laugh.

"My parents were a bit more accepting, they rode ATs themselves when they were younger." Her gaze briefly went to the window and settled on the lane of riders below, watching a line of riders in matching uniforms that appeared to be training for a circuit.

"Does it run in the family?"

"I just ride ATs for fun and occasionally go to the parks with my friends." She passively twisted her finger through one of her twintails as she briefly stared at Joel's airtreks. "From the look of those wheels and the scratches you use those just about everyday."

"What can I say, if you want to be a champion you've got to practice like one." Still, it was rather peculiar that she was able to notice his wheels and the scratches on his frame like that. Most hobbyists just liked the look and feel of air treks, never really knowing how to look much deeper than that.

"You really know your stuff, what school do you go to?"

"Motley Magnet School." She took a moment to present her school insignia, a red star with a purple MC inside of it.

"Oh, you live on the north side of the district. I think our schools are supposed to compete in two weeks, think I'll catch you at one of the games?"

"Maybe," she took her time stretching out the word with a coy smirk and innocent shrug.

"If you're there I promise to do a cool trick," Joel proposed, leaning up straight in his seat and meeting her gaze with a challenging smirk.

"You sure you shouldn't keep your mind focused on the race?" She arched an eyebrow as she crossed her arms, slightly shaking her head in disbelief as Joel chuckled and started unlocking his ATs.

"Don't doubt my ability to do both."

As the subway reached his stop, Joel stood to his feet and began cruising towards the door before turning around.

"My bad, nearly forgot. My name's Joel, Joel Cruz."

"Kiryu Minami," she gave an enthusiastic wave as Joel rode backwards towards the exit. "See you round Joel, good luck with your race!"

Before Joel could say anything more, the door closed and the subway drove off to its next destination. How would that girl know that he was in the middle of a race? She must've been referring to their upcoming school competition right? As he stared off at the disappearing rear end of the train, Joel lightly shook his head in disbelief.

"Minami...why does that sound familiar?" He was going to have to approach this question later, as he had breakfast to catch and a race to win.

With a quick 180 degree turn, he quickly rode towards the stairway and jumped up to grind seamlessly down the spiraling staircase and earned quite a few surprised gasps and even a few curses from other exiting passengers as he leapt off the end with a quick 360 before continuing on his way. Even on ATs, there was no way in hell Mindy was going to catch up.

…

"What do you mean I lost? I got here first!"

"You got here first because you cheated." Zamir dismissively explained as they now waited in line, the smell of freshly made hash browns and sausages filling the air as they stood in queue for their order. "You're ATs went silent, which means you turned them off. I know you didn't run here which means you got a ride. In other words-"

"Get fucked mate," Mindy grinned as she placed a hand on his shoulder, "To think ya felt so outclassed you got a ride instead of getting here yourself? Where's the sportsmanship? Where's the honor?"

Joel felt his face growing red with embarrassment, swatting Mindy's hand aside and causing his friends to chuckle at his expense while he tried to think of some excuse to get him out of this mess.

"But I-"

"Lie to me and you go hungry."

That shut him up quick, and Zamir's knowing smirk was all the confirmation Joel needed to know he meant business. It was impossible trying to get a lie over his head.

"Ugh fine, whatever. I lost and you won as usual."

"Shame really, if you didn't get distracted at that light you might have actually beaten me here. Better luck next time," she playfully thumped the bottom of her fist against his chest before it was her turn to order.

Joel lightly pinched the bridge of his nose as he gave an exasperated sigh, only to feel Zamir's hand gently pat him on the back.

"Don't worry about it man, for thinking outside the box I'll buy you a regular priced breakfast."

The prospect of more food seemed to do the trick just fine as Joel gladly clasped Zamir's palm and pulled him into a one armed eliciting a groan from Zamir as he lightly pushed him away and coughed.

"Ugh you're still wet man! Save the brotherly love for after you take a shower or put on some deodorant."

"It's the smell of living Zee, enjoy it while you can." Especially when a simple warning ensured that he could still have a body to sweat with or still have friends to annoy.

Even though Zamir could sometimes be a stick in the mud, at the end of the day he was the balance that Joel and Mindy needed. He kept them out of trouble, made sure to keep them grounded, and whenever they got into a bad situation he was the one that usually found a way to get them out of it. He was one of the most cautious people that he'd ever met, but he never once thought of Zamir as the type to be a coward. After all, it took bravery to keep chasing after people like him and Mindy for so long without asking for much in return aside from their portion of the rent.

"Yo Joel, what do you want?" The young man snapped out of his brief stream of thought and smiled as he approached the counter and glanced up at the menu.

"Now how much is the Mclobster?"

In a split second Joel suddenly found himself crumpled on the ground with a sharp pain in the back of his head, Zamir looking at the cashier with a calm expression yet with a visibly pulsing vein near his temple. His hand that was held up in a chop was lightly smoking from the force that he had hit the back of Joel's, and he calmly reached in his pocket to fish out his wallet.

"He'll have pancakes and some ice water." He calmly told the visibly shaken cashier who silently nodded and took the money.

"Can I at least get an apple pie?"

"No," Zamir nodded with a polite smile as he took the receipt and glanced down at his friend. "Only winners get pie."


End file.
